


It Wasn't A Lie, It Was Just Bull

by SynthApostate



Category: Fallout 3
Genre: F/F, F/M, butch what are you doing, butch you dumbass
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-07-15 18:19:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7233499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SynthApostate/pseuds/SynthApostate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Goodbye, east coast, hello, midwest.  Butch starts a new life in a place called Chicago.  Let's see how bad he can screw this up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Wasn't A Lie, It Was Just Bull

**Author's Note:**

  * For [moon_crater](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moon_crater/gifts).



> Explanation time: Occasionally, moon_crater and I will trade our fic back and forth if one of us is having trouble with a scene. She has the beginnings of one WIP involving Butch in the Mojave, to which I added a throwaway line about him having stopped in Chicago on the way. She asked me to expand on that, so...here it is. Her fic and mine may share continuity, but I don't know for sure.
> 
> The Boss was inspired by an OC from a different moon_crater WIP who only got a single paragraph but was interesting enough to demand an entire fic. Not the same character, but credit where credit is due.

It was a beautiful morning in Chicago. The sun was shining, birds were singing, and the rad clouds rolling in from Lake Michigan left a sparkle in the air. And yeah, Butch knew he was only feeling this good because he got laid last night (four times!) but hey, it had been a long dry spell, and he had a right to be happy.

Carol. Her name was Carol, and she was old-school gorgeous, with auburn hair and deep green eyes and a pair of legs that just didn't quit. She was sweet, and kind of shy, but the tiniest bit of friendly attention made her open up like a flower, or at least that's how it happened for him. Carol was a gardener, working on growing a whole new kind of flower that would clean up irradiated soil so other plants would grow, and when she talked about her work, she forgot to duck her head and look up from under her lashes, and her whole face came alive.

She was real smart on top of being beautiful, and maybe he had a thing for brainy girls now, maybe he had only started talking to her because she reminded him of a certain frizzy-haired know-it-all nerd, with her stack of books and all those words he'd never heard before. But Carol was a whole different kind of thing. She was special. She was damn near _perfect_ , except for one teeny-tiny little problem, practically nothing, really.

She was married. To his boss. Who was not known for taking betrayal lightly.

But on a beautiful morning like this, it was hard to think about shit like that.

Chicago was a great place to live. The Boss's organization kept the raiders outside the walls, the buildings repaired and the people fed. It was usually safe, but never boring. A good place for ordinary people. Even better for _her_ people.

She was waiting for him when he went inside. The Boss. All of a sudden it was real easy to think about what he'd been putting out of his mind. What was she doing there? She almost never left her office, unless-- _Did she know?_

"DeLoria," she said in a voice like curling smoke.

"Ma'am?" He squeaked it. God, that was embarrassing.

The Boss was just as smoking hot as her wife, but she wasn't shy. Carol was sweet. The Boss was a _man-eater_. _  
_

That was the only name she had, as far as anybody knew. They said she had come in from the Wasteland twenty years ago with nothing but a spear and a smile, and within a week, her enemies were dead and everyone left standing was paying her a Percentage. Butch could believe that. He'd seen her smile. There was a shark hanging up in one of the museums downtown--the Boss was like that.

"Got my money?" she asked, unsmiling. He could still see the sharpened points of her teeth when she opened her mouth

"Yeah--yes--ma'am. Here." He handed over the package he'd brought from the racetrack, all the extra caps that had been mysteriously missing from Shifty's monthly payment. Her hand brushed his as she took it from him, and he flinched a little. She had a knife-fighter's calluses. A hell of a lot more of them than he did.

"Have to break any fingers?" she asked. Oh, shit. Was that what she was going to do to him? He shook his head.

"Shifty had the money ready before I even got there. Practically threw it at me. He says he's _very sorry_ about the mix-up." He hoped she didn't _want_ him to break Shifty's fingers. It was kind of hard to tell what she was thinking. She wore the same uniform as the rest of the gang--black suit, skinny tie, sunglasses and fedora--which meant that most of her expression was hidden. Of course, that meant she couldn't see his eyes, either. Maybe she wasn't on to him yet.

"Good," she said. "The guy's been with us a long time. Never gave us any trouble before. Be a shame to lose that kind of loyalty. You understand loyalty, DeLoria?"

"I think--I mean, yeah. Yes, ma'am, I do." She was going to stab him right in the throat.

"How long have you worked for me?"

"Uh...couple of months, I think."

"And you still call me ma'am? Do I look that old to you?"

"Uhhh..." There was nothing he could think of to say that wouldn't end with him getting murdered.

She smiled, just a flash of her knifelike teeth, and he didn't feel any safer.

"Relax, kid. It's good you show respect. But we don't do that sir and ma'am shit here, got it?"

"Got it...Boss." _Ma'am_ didn't come natural to him, anyway, but he was trying to do this right.  Had been even before he slept with her wife, oh shit, oh shit.

"Good. And one more thing. My wife told me--" Shit! He almost panicked and ran out the door, but she went on, calmly enough, "you fixed her hair. What are you, some kind of stylist?"

"Barber!" He cleared his throat. "I _was_ a barber. I don't do that anymore."

"Except for Carol." Oh, shit.

"Well, I mean, she asked..." And one thing led to another, and now he was gonna get his arms ripped off.

"Okay, so now I'm asking."

"Asking?" he repeated nervously.

"Yeah, you're right. I'm not really asking. You're coming to my place. Tonight. Six o'clock. And you'll stay for dinner. Carol loves to cook."

"You--you want me to give you a haircut?" This couldn't be happening. It had to be a trap.

"What can I say? You made my wife look fantastic."

Carol always looked fantastic, but he sure as hell wasn't going to say that out loud.

Okay, so he was going to have to do the Boss's hair. So he was a barber again. Okay, fine. He would cut the hair of every guy in Chicago if it got him out of this _tiny_ little mistake he'd made.

And he got to have dinner with Carol.

Well, it wasn't like he really had a choice in the matter, anyway.  Might as well look on the bright side.


End file.
